


Camera Obscura

by SandrC



Series: Not Another Fanfiction Collection [19]
Category: Not Another D&D Podcast (Podcast)
Genre: A glimpse through the years, Canon Temporary Character Death, F/M, Gen, Present Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:07:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22129963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandrC/pseuds/SandrC
Summary: Behind the blinding light of her sister, Hardwon Surefoot is a shadow cast on the wall of Jaina's life.It only took a couple tries for him to come into focus.(Or: the six ways Jaina has seen Hardwon Surefoot)
Relationships: Gemma Bronzebeard/Hardwon Surefoot, Jaina Bronzebeard & Gemma Bronzebeard
Series: Not Another Fanfiction Collection [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1312925
Comments: 22
Kudos: 57





	Camera Obscura

**Author's Note:**

> First fic of 2020 and it's to stave off the anxiety over episode 85!
> 
> I've been kicking around this idea for a bit because it occurred to me that Jaina is one of the few people that has seen Hardwon in almost every stage of his life. From younger dwarfan to tired warrior to half-elf, she's seen him so many different ways. I wonder how that colors her view of him.
> 
> I sure hope Jaina and king Grimthor Maganus are okay because mmmmmmmmmboy I love that dwarf. Please don't kill her, Murph.
> 
> And speaking of "kill": big fear but we only have five days until an answer to the looming guillotine blade over our heads wrt that cliffhanger on 85.
> 
> Happy year of the double crit. Don't drop the boy.

**i.**

This tall, skinny kid elbows Gemma as they pass them by. Even though the _rest_ of the dwarfan miners are leaving enough space for a small army around them—eyes catching the vibrant red of their beards and hair and knowing what that means—this one doesn't seem to notice. They treat them like _everyone else_ and Gemma's face lights up as she tracks their path down the mineshaft.

"Who the fuck was _that_?" Jaina asks, watching their too-tall body move awkwardly among the sturdier and shorter dwarfans.

" _Hardwon Surefoot_ ," one of the older miners spits, sneering. "The human under the mountain."

"They stay in the _dwarfanage_?" She probes. Beside her, Gemma frowns.

"Haven't got family down here. _Yeah_ , the poor fuck grew up there."

She lets out a soft hum of acknowledgement and tugs on Gemma's elbow. " _C'mon_ , Gemma. We gotta go before father notices we left."

And she follows, though Jaina can catch her mouth mimicking the shape of Hardwon's name, an idea visibly forming behind her eyes.

**ii.**

She pins Hardwon against a wall with her blade, nicking his cheek a little. He starts and looks at her, almost offended, setting his pick and pack down. " _Morridan_ , Jaina, way to scare the _shit_ out of me. What brings you to my mineshaft this fine evening?" He gives her a crooked grin, his patchy beard barely covering the blood running down his chin.

" _Gemma_ ," she growls. His whole posture changes then, from lax and open to defensive. He draws his shoulders up and straightens his spine, gaze hardening.

" _What **about** her?_" He asks, the cordiality gone. His tone is stone, cold and unfeeling. It's like looking in a mirror.

"I wanted to warn you. If you so much as fucking _think_ about hurting her—"

" _Jaina_ ," he cuts her off and she wants to shift her blade so it presses more into his face for his insolence, "if I _ever_ fucking hurt her, I will walk my ass to your front door and ask for you _by name_."

His conviction is astounding. Even with the ice in his veins and the stone in his spine, the way he accents his sentiment is enough to catch her off guard.

"I _really_ love her," he continues, "and I'm _lucky_ she picked me. Even if it just was a way to get back at her dad, it's _enough_. So I would _never_ hurt her on purpose and, if I did, I would deserve _whatever_ vengeance you'd bring down on me."

She thinks of the tall, tired kid who bumped into Gemma in the mines and didn't apologize. She thinks of the smile on Gemma's face when she talks about hanging out with him. She thinks about how sincere he feels.

Jaina sheathes her blade and smirks at him. "You're lucky I _like_ you."

"Sure am." And he grasps her forearm in a heavy handshake, the deal sealed with mutual understanding.

**iii.**

The pre-wedding party is _bullshit_. Neither she _nor_ Gemma is particularly happy about being there—even though Gemma _continues_ to delude herself into thinking that she's gonna like being married to Gerrard—and it's _so damn **cold.**_

Still, there's something to be said when a buxom crick elf wanders up, a tawny wolf at her side, and starts talking about Hardwon Surefoot. Moreso when the elf backtracks and mentions knowing him and then starts fluffing his ego, the wolf at her side anxious and whining softly.

Gemma, the fool she's _always_ been, perks up at his name. They'd been in love, _yeah_ , but their father had never approved of a Bronzebeard dating some dwarfan— _especially_ not the human under the mountain, as he wasn't even a _proper_ dwarf—and had forced her hand. That had been a miserable couple of months, _especially_ after Hardwon just left Irondeep with no warning.

But the elf offhand mentions Hardwon and it's like _all_ the work Gemma had put into trying to forget is thrown out the window. Her enthusiasm dampens when the elf says he isn't there, but she still asks after him. Wants to know that he's okay.

_Misses him._

And something can be said of Jaina _herself_ finding the concept of Hardwon Surefoot crashing this wedding in a grand gesture of love just _ **absolutely** hilarious_. _Foolish_ , sure, but _very much_ a thing he would do.

Maybe she missed him too.

When the elf and her wolf walk off, tails between their legs, Jaina wonders if she cared about him too. And if she failed him by bowing under her father's orders.

**iv.**

If she had the wherewithal to observe his appearance, Jaina would have been _shocked_ at how healthy Hardwon looked now, as opposed to when she last saw him in Irondeep. How his auburn hair was streaked with lighter gold from exposure to the sun and how his skin was darker and freckled and how, even with the dark shadows under his eyes and the hollow emptiness in his face, he seemed a _bit_ happier than before. As it was, she was more occupied by the fact that _Gemma was dead_ and that it _might_ have had something to do with _him_.

_He_ reached out to _her_ , she has to remember. If he was _guilty_ , he wouldn't've done that. He would've _run_. Him and the elf and the halflings. Fled and _never_ come back. So she had to believe he was innocent. She had to hold on to her fond feelings of him and _trust_.

But then there's the shit in his bag and she can't see straight for the grief and he kneels in front of her, handing her his axe, and she's reminded of so many years ago.

Of a tall, thin human looking at her with a serious expression, and saying, "if I _ever_ fucking hurt her, I will walk my ass to your front door and ask for you _by name_." Of the strangely stern way he said, "I would deserve _whatever_ vengeance you'd bring down on me."

And now, the same man—only _not_ , because he has friends he cares for and who care for him, and that makes _all_ the difference—looks up at her through a curtain of auburn and begs. "If you think I could ever hurt her, then _go ahead_."

The _same_. The same but _different_.

She stays her hand. Hardwon Surefoot lives another day.

He explains everything he knows and she listens.

**v.**

In her dreams, Gemma is a bright and vibrant being, large wings spread behind her as she wraps herself around Jaina and weeps. "I'm _sorry_ ," this version of her sister apologizes. "I'm _so_ sorry."

"It's not your fault," Jaina reassures her. "I'm gonna get you back."

" _Oh_ , but here's the thing," Gemma says, and Jaina can tell—by the crook of her mouth and the cadence of her words—that she's _not_ going to like what she says next. "You need to go back. I'll be _fine_ , I _promise_. Morridan has accepted me as one of His. _I'm okay_. But _Hardwon_ —"

" _Of course_ ," she snaps. Gemma draws back, a little hurt, but sweeps her up in another hug, shielding her with her wings.

" _Oh, **Jaina.**_ "

"I miss you already."

"I'll _always_ be here, if you ask. Gotta make sure my big sis doesn't get in trouble."

Jaina laughs, bitter. " _That's_ the pick calling the rock wall hard."

"You borrowed Hardwon's airship after stealing a chunk of my hair," Gemma admonishes. "I'm _justified_."

Jaina just laughs until she cries. She can't find it in her to be able to speak.

"Turn the ship around. At the base of the mountain is Hardwon and his friends. They've gotten revenge for me. They just need a ride and a warm blanket. They need to be cared for. They need a _big sister_."

Jaina doesn't answer, the request echoing in her head as she wakes.

She does turn the ship around and, like Gemma said, at the base of the mountain are the four of them, encased in ice but still alive. The halfling boy, the older halfling, the crick elf, and Hardwon Surefoot with the Coldain Kingshammer in his hand.

Looks like he was more of a dwarf than he ever thought.

**vi.**

Jaina stands next to king Grimthor Maganus, hand at her blade, and waits for the final stragglers to show up to the Council. A few of the free cities have delegated to not attend but apparently someone came in from Gladeholm, which is _impressive_ , and that's who all they need. Everyone else is represented.

She wonders, idly, how Hardwon is doing. Here she is standing next to Ulfgar—who is a strangely _jovial_ man, now that he's free of the disease that plagued him and of the prison gem that Hardwon smashed clean open on the deck of _the Stormborn_ —and her king, and yet she can't even enjoy that without worrying.

A voice in her head that sounds suspiciously like Gemma chastises her for not taking a breath and living in the moment. She dismisses it. They're _at war_. She's _allowed_ to be a bit keyed up.

From the north, the representatives of Gladeholm show up. Lucanus Aer'tea, headmaster of the Gladeholm Univeristy of Arcane Arts and Sciences is accompanied by four familiar figures, and Jaina feels a mix of excitement and resignation, even as Ulfgar shouts in recognition.

Alongside Lucanus are Hardwon's friends. The crick elf is wearing a sparkling cape and velvet jumpsuit. The smaller halfling is in military finery colored a summer green, dark ash circles around his eyes. The older halfling looks more sure of himself, though just as tired. And where Hardwon should be is a lean half elf in nice armor with a close-trimmed beard.

He seems more familiar than he should be, his auburn hair pulled up in a messy bun, his grey eyes weary and drawn towards her and Ulfgar, but it's the weapon he carries that does it.

The half elf has the Coldain Kingshammer on his back.

The crushing understanding almost knocks the wind out of her. Not just because the rest of his group don't seem to be bothered by his change in _literal race_ , but also because it means that he _died_.

"It's a less satisfying conclusion than you'd think. It is a spell that changes your form."

What had he gotten into? What have they done that Hardwon would have _died_?

But he's there, a half-elf, and he speaks with a surety that she didn't expect of him, and there is some relief there. That even though so much has changed, he's still himself. That he's still the human under the mountain, the person Gemma loved, the man who avenged her death, the dwarf-at-heart.

The _hero_.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Camera Obscura](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28156032) by [ofjustimagine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofjustimagine/pseuds/ofjustimagine)




End file.
